Cabin Pressure: Guilt
by ko-writes
Summary: Prompt: Martin used to punch himself really hard in the head or hurt himself in other ways whenever he got something wrong, right up until Douglas or Arthur caught him doing it the first year he was at MJN. Set in the aftermath of Abu Dhabi. TW: Self-Harm, self-injury, Guilt, Self-Hatred


It started when he was quite young. He remembers his parents shouting at him to get ready and then answering back so they just huffed and went about their business passive-aggressively. He felt so guilty! Then he saw it – Caitlin's white sandal with the wedge heel. Not knowing why, exactly, he picked it up. The heel was heavy – it could do some damage.

Before the impulse even fully registered; he raised the shoe above his head and brought it down with a lot of force, over his head. The pain was intense for a second or two, but dulled a little after a second or two, along with the guilt. It was satisfying.

If he did it again, the guilt would fade even more. He was about to do it again when his mum swanned into the room again, clipping on her earrings. He dropped the shoe. "Martin, please get ready!"

"Ok, mum," Martin stated. He had to get ready now, but the car door might close on his foot…

He had messed up. He diverted because nearly killed the client's poor cat, and cost MJN thousands of pounds because he had a mix up. He was just a failure.

He opened the door to the hotel in Abu Dhabi. He was sharing with Douglas, but the older man put his bag down on his bed – the better bed – and left to find some 'lucky' lady in the bar. Martin had no hope of that.

Douglas was gone. He was feeling guilty. He needed to do it. He shouldn't do it, wouldn't do it. He was going to, though.

The impulse was too much. He strode, like a marionette on strings, towards the door; opened it; placed his hand on the doorframe, the other in his mouth so he could bite on it to stop his shout of pain. He drove the door back into place as hard as he could. Satisfaction. The bite on his hand ran crimson as he opened the door as felt his hand sting and hurt. It was crushed and bloodied along the knuckle. But the guilt returned.

He ran his bitten hand through his hair, leaving red streaks in his curls. He brought it up and slapped himself across the face. It stung, but didn't provide enough release. He did the same, but curled his hand into a fist. It hurt certainly, but it wasn't enough.

He hit his temples, sliding down to the floor, tears falling down his face. He messed up, people were going to be angry, he was so pathetic.

Douglas walked back to the room; hitting on a married woman tends to put one off and it's not like he could have a drink.

He went to open the door when he noticed blood smeared between it and the frame. His adrenaline rose as he turned the key and burst into the room. He thought he'd find something different; not the sight of his captain, sitting on the floor was crushed knuckles on one hand and the other pounding his head and tears streaming silently down his cheeks.

Douglas rushed to Martin's side and took his hands. The younger man fought against his hold. "Martin, stop… It's ok," Douglas soothed.

"No… Deserve it…"

Douglas pulled the captain into his chest, holding Martin's hands in his free hand and carefully avoiding his knuckles. Martin broke into sobs against the first officer's chest. "Let it out, it's ok…"

"N-no. Deserve it. Diverted. Almost killed the cat. Cost Carolyn thousands of pounds."

"Martin, things like that happen; it's alright. You don't need to do this."

"I do. Feel guilty."

"Don't feel guilty, it was just a mistake."

Douglas held Martin for a long time until the sobs died down. "Sorry, Douglas…"

"Martin; never apologise for this, ok?" Martin gave a small nod, "Right, let's go to the hospital, I'm pretty sure you've broken your hand."

Martin had gotten help; but after Qikiqtarjuaq, when he had felt worthless and pathetic, Martin and Douglas were once again at the hospital. Martin relapsed, but it wasn't from guilt, but self-loathing.

"I'm sorry," Douglas apologised.

"It's fine," Martin shrugged. Douglas pressed a kiss to the young man's temple. Guilt was a terrible thing. He'd just have to be there for Martin.


End file.
